Joker, help me
by randomplotbunny
Summary: A new killer of criminals stalks the streets of Gotham. Only one clown knows his identity or where he will strike next. Can the Joker help his Batsy come to terms with the killers identity? Eventual Joker/Batman.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: This is the old Joker. All white skin, green hair, ruby lips and emerald eyes. No scars, except in his mind._

**Disclaimer: Not mine, I can only dream.**

The rain was coming down in sheets when a scream pierced the night.

A guttural, terrified scream. The kind only heard at the end of someones life.

That was the first, but not the last.

Four months later the body count had risen to fifty-eight, with no sign of slowing down.

All the victims had been criminals of the worst sort: rapists, murders, drug pushers, master thieves and contract killers.

The underbelly of criminal society and its life blood.

Never a clue was left behind, no witnesses found; only a corpse growing cold on the street.

Commissioner Gordon was clueless; the Batman was angry.

No leads.

The killer seemed to know the underworld inside and out, but could not be found in it.

The criminal masses were running scared from the new menace on the loose.

Batman was standing on top of Wayne towers when the call came.

Body number fifty-nine had just been found at the docks.

Blast it! He always seemed to be on the wrong side of Gotham when these murders took place.

He would catch this new madman, whatever it took!

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKER

The Joker was living the easy life.

He had all the guards and orderlies completely spooked, even his new doctor only interacted with him at their scheduled, and mandatory, appointments.

Perhaps it was his charming personality.

More likely it was the fact he had remained inside Arkham, peacefully, for the last five months.

That last fight with Bats had really taken it out of he clown, and he had felt the need to relax a bit.

So here he was 'incarcerated', at least until he felt like not being so, healing up and terrorizing the other inmates.

He was now lounging in the rec room, having just beaten two-brains at a game of chance, staring out a window and wondering what his Batsy was up to.

"Yeah, and even the batman is stumped. I mean, I never thought I'd be happy to be locked up, by man..."

As the conversationalists traveled past, the Joker lost his happy smile.

His Batsy was stumped, that wasn't good.

Everyone knew about the murders, and like everyone he simply assumed it was just another psycho or blood thirsty vigilante.

But the killer had been going strong for four months now.

Four months!

No one was supposed to stump his Bat for so long but him!

Deciding he now had to do something about his competition for the Bats' attentions, the Joker walked out of the lounge.

Later that evening the head count came up short one green haired clown.

Everyone was suitably upset of course, there had been an escape!

But no one looked too hard for the madman.

After all they needed to count their blessings, he had left without killing anyone.

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKER

It took him three days.

Three days of pouring over every scrap of information the police had, as well as everything the crime syndicates could collect.

He had added in weather patterns, traffic reports and tide tables; finally coming up with a location for the next murder, as well as a name for the next victim.

Smiling at his own genius, he would never be caught if he didn't want to be after all, he headed out to the alley that would soon be a crime scene.

Hiding himself- not in the deepest shadows, that was an amateurish mistake and he was far from being an amateur- he waited.

It wasn't long before tonight's' victim came sauntering along: Marcus Jacobs, petty thief and serial rapist.

If the Joker were inclined towards pity, he wouldn't be feeling any now.

As the minutes dragged on, the Harlequin of Hate had a bare moment of doubt.

What if he were wrong?

Well, in that case, he would kill this miserable waste himself; go home and try again.

It wasn't as if he had any pressing appointments.

Busy suppressing his mirth at his own joke, the madman almost missed what happened next.

Almost.

He would wish later he had.

After the bloody deed was done the Clown Prince of Crime was left alone with a cooling corpse and a lot of questions.

Well, he thought, no wonder his Batsy was having trouble with this case. No one would ever expect this turn of events. He himself had just witnessed it all and still could hardly believe it.

Turning from the cold ally, and the unmourned lump of meat within, the Joker began to plan.

He would really need help with this, and he knew the perfect person too.

Deciding on his best course of action, he went back to his temporary lair, and packed.

Heading out of Gotham City proper, he stashed his bike and walked up to the stately manor.

A ring of the doorbell was answered by a startled and fearful butler.

"J-Joker! W-what-"

"Sorry to bother you Alfred, but I'm gonna need your help. It seems our boy has finally flipped his lid. Big time!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

_"All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man to lunacy. That's how far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day. You had a bad day once. Am I right? I know I am. I can can tell. You had a bad day and everything changed. Why else would you dress up like a flying rat?"_

_The Joker: Batman issue #1 April 1940_

"It seems our boy has finally flipped his lid. Big time!"

The old retainer had always expected something like this, just never from such a source.

The Joker of all people! How did he even know about Master Bruce being the Batman? And what's more: How did he know about the Batman's connection to the recent killings?

He had only just discovered this information, and he lived with the man!

Shoulders slumping, he suddenly felt very old. So many secrets, so many lies over the years; and now these new developments?

He was simply too old. Too old and too tired.

Looking at the madman on the front step, holding a duffel bag and looking to want to stay for a while, the old butler stepped aside.

"Please, come in." The least he could do is talk it out, it had been so long since he'd had someone to really talk to.

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKER

The Joker looked around as he was led through the old manor house. He had been here many times over the years since figuring out just who the batman was, just never as a guest.

He had even traversed the Batcave a time or two!

He'd always loved this huge place. It might be old but it was well loved.

As they entered the small servants kitchen, the green haired man set his duffel down and had a seat. Alfred had looked a bit startled on first sight of his fine self, but now he seemed quite depressed. And with good cause, the madman mused.

Waiting for the proper British gentleman to make them tea and calm his nerves, the Joker let himself ponder the situation that they would have to deal with.

The Batman was murdering people, and wasn't even aware he was doing so! This was going to be a tough nut to crack.

Taking his tea with a quiet thank you that didn't seem to have been heard, the Joker got right to the heart of the matter.

"How long have you known?" He asked as gently as he could.

He didn't need to elaborate more, they both knew what this was about.

"A week now. He came home after that gang had been ripped apart. You heard of that?"

"Yes, it was all over Arkham. The headline 'The Great Gangs of Gotham are Finally Falling' was the talk of every ward." They had all laughed about it then, it didn't seem funny anymore.

"Yes, well, he was upset that night, of course he normally is on bad nights; but it was different that time. He didn't speak, just went right to the showers; he left a light blood trail. At first I thought he was hurt, he often is, but when I checked on him he simply yelled for me to clean the car and leave him alone. I-I went to the B-batm-"

"It's alright. You don't have to say it, I can imagine for myself." And he could too. He knew from personal experience just what a blood splattered car looked like, and how hard it was to clean.

"I-I managed to get all the stains out. It took hours, but I got them all out. The next day I took him his breakfast and he acted like nothing had happened. I tried asking but he didn't seem to know what I was talking about. And a few minutes later he wouldn't even remember that I had asked him anything.

"He doesn't remember! Do you understand?" The pleading eyes turned on him would have broken his heart if he had one.

"I know. If he knew what he was doing he would be the first to turn himself in." Seeing relief in the eyes of the only other person who cared for his Batsy as much as he did, Joker reached out and covered one worn old hand with his stark white one.

"We'll get our boy back, I promise." Or we'll die trying, he said to himself. Now it was time to get to work.

"Alfred, do you remember anything unusual happening to the Bats just before the killings started? We need to figure out what could have caused all this."

"Well-" Ding! Ding! Ding! A look of alarm passed across the butlers face.

"It's alright, he won't hurt you, and I'll stay out of sight."

"You're staying?" He didn't sound surprised, only seeking confirmation.

"Yes, if whatever is wrong with him gets worse you'll need help. Besides, if he kills you he might just off himself in grief. I can't have that now can I?" Looking actually relieved, the old butler left to attend his Master.

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKER

"Another one Alfred. Another murder and no clues! Plus the Joker is still on the loose. Not even Quinn has heard from him."

"You found Miss Harleen I take it." With sigh and a relaxing of tense shoulders Bruce answered his old mentor.

"Yeah. She and Ivy have set up shop in skid row. It seems legitimate, but I'll keep an eye on them."

"Would you care for a light supper, sir?" The Butler asked, wanting to go and make sure his guest was staying out of trouble.

"That would be nice, thank you Alfred." Turning around Bruce began to input that nights' report in his computer.

Turning to leave Alfred almost missed a step, the Joker was leaning against the wall. Holding a finger to his lips he slipped into the shadows. Search as he might, the old man could not see where he had gone.

Felling better knowing someone would be watching over his Master, Alfred headed up to fix a light supper for the grown man he still remembered as a small boy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Please don't say you believe I own them. You know I don't.**

It had been a long day, and it was going to be an even longer night. It had been four days since the last killing, another body was due to be found anytime now. Every criminal in Gotham was running scared.

Bruce was jumpy as he drove back to the manor after a day as Bruce Wayne, he needed to get out on the streets as soon as possible as the Batman; he had to be there when the next body was found.

In the closed confines of his Roles Royce he let his shoulders slump and he admitted- only to himself- that there wasn't much he could do about all these murders.

As he turned into his driveway he straightened up once more. He would do his job, he would do all he could to keep the streets safe for innocent people. He would not mourn the loss of a few retched criminals.

Where had that last thought come from? That wasn't like him. No one deserved to be cut down in the streets.

Parking, Bruce made his way inside and headed straight for his cave; he really needed to be out on the streets right now. He had to get out on the streets.

Almost to the clock, he was intercepted by his butler.

"Sir? I have your dinner ready. Would you like for me to bring it down to you?"

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKER

Slowly coming back to consciousness, the first thing Bruce registered was a horrible pain in his head. I must have been hit pretty hard, he thought.

The second thing he noticed was that he was strapped down. His only thought on that was: Again?

Opening his eyes slightly he was shocked to see he was in the batcave. Why was he strapped down in the batcave?

"Hold still, I need to get these stitches straight." Alfred. Alfred was here somewhere. Opening his mouth to call out to his faithful butler, Bruce got another shock.

"I am holding still, you have a concussion. Why I'm letting you stitch me up in your condition is beyond me." The Joker. The Joker was here! In his most sacred of places.

"It is simple: you can not reach and you needed stitches." Alfred was treating the madman? Let him die!

No! Why was he thinking this way? This wasn't him! What was happening?!

"Master? Are you awake?" He must have made a noise of some kind, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Opening his eyes- when had he closed them again?- he turned his head slightly and gasped.

Alfred had a large bandage on the left side of his face, his left arm also appeared to be bandaged and he had dried blood in his hair. What had happened to his old mentor?

"Master? How are you feeling?" His intrepid butler stopped a little more than an arm's length away, he seemed hesitant to come any closer.

"I have a headache. What happened, Alfred? Why am I strapped drown?" And in an undertone he added:

"Why is the Joker here? Did he do this to you?" Alfred looked down and away, presumably towards where the madman still was.

"The Joker has been staying with us for the last four days, sir. He has not once raised his hand to me; he has, in fact, recently saved my life." Alfred looked back towards him and Bruce could see the answer he didn't want shining in the old mans' eyes.

"No. I didn't do this. No!" The worry and concern was plainly written on the others' face, but he seemed reluctant to come closer.

That was enough to tell him that he had almost done something horrible. In a broken whisper, Bruce asked:

"What did I do, Alfred?"

"I think I had better answer that one." The clown stepped around the corner, taping down a fresh bandage; if Alfred looked to have been put through hell, then the Joker looked to have been put through a meat grinder.

Bandages covered most of his torso and up his neck, his arms were a patchwork of band-aids. Whoever had gone after him was obviously going in for the kill. Giving Bruce a small smile, the starkly white man turned towards the butler.

"Why don't you go lay down. There's a cot just over there, you don't have to leave Bruceys' side; but you need to lay down before you collapse. I'll check on you in an hour, to make sure you're still alright." Watching as his butler took the advice and left, Bruce remembered the earlier overheard comment.

"How badly is he injured?" He hated asking his greatest enemy anything, but he didn't seem to have any other options and he needed to know.

"Concussion, deep slice to the face, gash to his arm, a few bruised ribs; nothing unusual for us really." The clown tried to give his signature smile, but it came up short.

"I did that to him." He had meant to keep that statement to himself, but it seemed the green-haired psycho had heard him.

"Yes and no. It's rather complicated. Suffice it to say that you didn't know what you were doing at the time." His smile this time was a little more genuine.

"And you? Did I do all that to you, as well?"

"The same answer applies." Bruce could see the cracks in the mans' smile this time. Out of all his enemies, he knew the Joker both the best and the least.

"I should have killed you and carved out your heart as a trophy." Had he just said that? The sad look on the others' face said that he had.

"Joker... I-"

"Don't worry Batsy, I understand. I just hope you understand that this is why we have to keep you here for now."

"Yes. But can you at least tell me why you are here." Why are you being so nice?

"I can't let anything happen to my Batsy." His smile was sad but sincere.

Bruce wanted to carve it from his face.

"Why am I thinking this was? What is happening?" He shut his eyes once more, he just wanted his mind back.

"As far as I've been able to find out, you're suffering from a psychotic break brought on from one of Scarecrow's toxins. You had a run-in with him just after you put me away this last time? He was testing a new mix? Remember?"

He did remember, it had been a horrible three hours of nightmares and hallucinations. He hated nights like that.

"The side effects seem to cause repressed desires to manifest themselves into actions." The Joker was looking at him now with an expectant expression.

Why? What did he need to figure out? If he had been suffering for the last few months from... oh.

"I killed all those people, didn't I." Please tell me I'm wrong.

"Yes and no. Like I said before: it's complicated."

"Don't give me that! If I've been going around murdering people then just tell me so!"

"No, sir, you haven't!" Alfred came back around the corner, he had obviously been listening instead of resting; he swayed on his feet, only staying upright when the Joker caught him.

"The Joker is right. It was your body but it wasn't your mind. Do not blame yourself, that will not change anything. You must fight through; we will help as much as we can, but you must fight as well." Having said his piece, the old man slumped.

As the green-haired man took his butler to bed, Bruce was left to think. Going over all the new information, he came to one conclusion: he needed help. He couldn't be sure when another episode would occur; so he would have to rely on someone to work by his side, but still be able to take him out if it got too bad.

He could not endanger his old allies or proteges by asking for their help. Seeing the mad genius he called his Arch Enemy come back, he knew that their was only one person he could rely on.

"Joker, help me." Giving him an odd look, he had never asked the man for anything before now, he realized; the psycho walked back over to his table.

"I will do everything I can, Batsy. You have my word on that."


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: I'm so sorry for taking so long to update. Real life and pure laziness have been taking their toll._

**Disclaimer: If you believe really hard that they are mine then the Joker will come to your house and laugh at you.**

Bruce had been strapped down for three days now. It wasn't that Alfred and the Joker wanted to keep him strapped to the table, it was just that he refused to be let up until Alfred agreed to vacate the premises.

The butler had refused to do so of course, he was adamant that he would see his young Master better if it was a last thing he did. And considering the threats Bruce yelled out anytime he was even mildly vexed, that could be anytime.

The Joker might have weighed in on all of this, but he was busy at the large super-computer dissecting the chemical components in the blood sample he had managed to collect. He had received a black eye for his efforts when Bruce had unexpectedly broken one of his restraints.

He had narrowed down the chemical sequences, but had no idea what else Mr. Scary have dosed his Batsy with. If he got this wrong he could end up killing his one and only Bat, and that just wouldn't do!

Making a decision, the mad clown strolled over to the bickering pair- Alfred was trying to feed his Master lunch and Bruce was demanding that he either back away or remove his own head. Bruce had become more and more confused and hostile every hour since the initial snap when he had attacked Alfred.

If it wasn't so pathetic he could just laugh, thought the Joker. Oh well, I can just laugh anyway!

Breaking through the argument that was going nowhere, the clown stated his intentions.

"I'm going to go find Scary and grab his notes. Alfred I'd prefer it if you were out of the house while I'm gone. And as for you..." He leveled his best glare at the strapped down man.

"Stay put!" Giggling like mad, the clown grabbed the butler and headed out; leaving his poor mad Brucey-poo all alone. Breaking into his most insane cackles, the Joker set himself to his task.

Once on the streets- Alfred had finally agreed to go to the market until the Joker called to let him know it was safe to return- it didn't take long to track down the former doctor.

Creeping along corridors, slitting the throats of those who tread to close to him- the Joker was having a blast. If this was how Batsy always felt when patrolling then maybe he should take up crime fighting as well!

Trying to suppress his hysterics at the thought of him working for the greater good, he finally found scaryface. Sneaking up on his prey, the Joker placed a hand on a bony shoulder- and got a face full of Fear Venom! Coughing and sneezing a bit the Clown Prince glared at the, so-called, Master of Fear.

"Come on Craney, you know that stuff doesn't work on me."

"What do you want Joker, I'm busy."

"Ahh, is that anyway to talk to an old cellmate? I just came to talk, after all." Giving his best hurt puppy dog eyes he only received an exasperated sigh.

"So talk." Turning back to his chemistry set-up, Crane didn't take anymore note of the clown in his lair.

The man was always showing up out of the blue, stealing supplies and killing perfectly good test subje-uh... henchmen. He hoped the clown would just grab whatever he was after and leave- his presence was creepy and his humor revolting.

Finally looking up from his microscope at the continued silence of the usually talkative clown, he noted that the Joker seemed to be absorbed in one of his older journals.

Grabbing his precious research from the destructive force of nature in his lab, Crane glared at the grinning clown.

"I was reading that Scary, it's rude to grab a book out of a person's hand when their reading it. Didn't your mother teach you better than that!" Ignoring the tantrum playing out before him, Scarecrow waited to get a word in edgewise. Once it seemed that the clown was winding down he spoke up.

"I have some very sensitive experiments running right now. Get to the point of your visit. You came to talk? So talk. Then leave. Unlike you some of us need to put effort into our schemes." Giving a sad pout, the Joker got to the point.

"That compound you were working on several months ago, the one to cause psychotic breaks and release a persons repressed desires. What was in it?" No response was forthcoming for several minutes, and then a look of unholy glee lit up the usually stoic face.

"Batman." He whispered, and caused the Joker to tense.

"What about the flying rodent?" Crane began to laugh.

"Joker, the only person you've ever cared about is your precious Bats. You've even kept the rest of us from killing him just so you can spend more time getting beat-up by him- which is an unhealthy relationship if I ever saw one. I sprayed him with the new stuff months ago, and now your here asking about it..." His grin grew wider if that was possible.

"He's the one behind the recent murders, isn't he? And now you want to save your precious Bat from his own unleashed mind?!" As the thin ex-doctor began to shake with his laughter the Joker was just growing more calm.

"Craney my boy, you are just too smart for your own good."

Emerging from the burning wreckage of the once hideout, the Joker hefted his large sack of journals. He would have some reading to do tonight.

Looking up he thought that it was just too bad that the near constant rain of Gotham was going to wash all those lovely chemicals out of the atmosphere before they had a chance to do more than slight harm.(In Joker's reasoning 'slight harm' is defined by a few dozen deaths and mass panic.)

With a giggle and a skip, the clown headed back to collect the butler and return home. He couldn't wait to see Batsy's face when he told him about tonight's events!

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Bruce felt exhausted, he had been fighting the cruel urges coursing through him for days now and just wanted to sleep. Yet every time he closed his eyes he remembered one of his victims.

He remembered how he had chosen them. How he had lured them in. How he felt when slicing into their bodies and ridding his city of their filth forever. And worst of all, he remembered how much he had enjoyed every moment of every murder.

He had seen death in all its forms over the years, but had never been the cause of it. Until now. Now he was soaked in blood just as much as the psycho clown who was helping him.

A small part of Bruce- the part that was still sane and wholly Batman- just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. A much bigger part- the part unleashed by Scarecrow and fed on blood these past months- wanted to climb off this table and skin alive all those who stopped him from cleansing his city the right way.

He had to hope that his trust wasn't misplaced in the Joker, and that the mad man would continue to help rather than find amusement in unleashing him on Gotham in his new blood thirsty state.

A cough made the vigilante open his eyes to see the Joker standing above him. He looked slightly singed around the edges and had a look in his eyes that Bruce only ever saw after the clown had killed- and killed a lot!

Normally that look made him want to bash the mad man's face in, but now he had the urge to cuddle close and ask for details. Trying to hide his discomfort at this newest twist of his mind, Bruce turned his attention to the equally singed bag his clown carried.(The! The clown! Not his! The!)

"I saw the late Dr. Crane, he's letting me borrow his notes." Bruce could feel an inappropriate laugh trying to make itself known.

"He said there was no rush to return them as he would be dead to the world for a little while. Wasn't that nice of him!" As the Joker began to laugh so did Bruce, which stopped the clown's laughter dead.

With tears rolling down his cheeks, and lungs and sides screaming from the force of his laughter; Bruce could feel himself beginning to black out from not enough oxygen reaching his lungs.

As he lost consciousness he thought he might have said something, but he couldn't be sure. If it was important he was sure someone would tell him about it.

The Joker stood stunned, looking down at the now unconscious man in front of him. He was even smirking in his sleep! He had not expected that reaction at all when making his jokes!

Clutching to his chest the journals that would- hopefully- allow his Batsy to get back to normal, the clown moved to start reading. A laughing Bat- though sexy in a whole different way from his usual brooding Bat- was just wrong.

Trying not to think on the words that had been spoken before the man had passed out- they had after all been coerced by chemicals and not spoken sincerely- the Joker powered up the computer and began his nights work.

Alfred made a quiet retreat from the Batcave. His Master was sleeping, and he didn't want to disturb the concentrating Joker in the middle of his researches.

Reaching the relative sanity of his kitchen he made himself some soothing tea. He had gone down to see if there was anything he could do for either man only to catch the tail end of their conversation and his Master's hysterics.

But what had really been shocking had been those four little words spoken before his Master had passed out. He knew his Master had always been obsessed with the Joker, and had a soft spot for the clown that he would never admit too, but to say: I love you Joker!

Even knowing it was caused by a chemically induced psychosis it had been shocking. He just hoped the Joker would find a cure soon, he hated to see his young ward in such a state.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: No matter how much I want them to be mine(sobs) they never will be.**

_Bruce raced down the dark labyrinth of alleyways. He was lost. Lost in his own city._

_A familiar scream pierces the night._

_'No!' is all he can think as he races towards where he knows the woman will be._

_Arriving he sees a familiar sight: two dead adults and a small child crying. As he watches the familiar scene he notices something different about the villain of this nightmares._

_The man was hanging upside down, suspended above the alley by one of his grapnel lines! And the Batman was standing in front of him, bloody knife in hand and staring at Bruce._

_"This is how you make the nightmares stop." he said._

_A pressure in his hand made Bruce look down. The bloody knife was now in his gloved hand!_

_Looking into the frightened eyes of the man who had traumatized him so long ago, he began to laugh._

_And laugh._

_And laugh!_

_As he laughed he worked until the man was unrecognizable._

Sitting up with a shout, Bruce looked around his room. When had he been moved here?

And why was he no longer strapped down?

Had he escaped his confinement?

Had he killed the Joker and Alfred while escaping?!

As he began to panic over what he might have done he didn't notice his door opening until strong arms wrapped around him and began to rock him in a soothing manner.

"It's alright Brucey. Shhh. You didn't hurt anyone. Relax. There you go." Letting himself relax into the madman's embrace, Bruce tried not to think too hard about why it felt so safe and comfortable.

"What happened?" He finally whispered. Why had he been released? He was a danger to everyone!

"Well... after I got back from Crane's- do you remember that?" Bruce thought a moment.

"I remember laughing about you killing him." As he looked into green eyes so close to his own he had a moment of confusion: why did the Joker look so sad all of a sudden?

"Yes, well..." The Joker turned in face away, but tightened his arms. He continued his story.

"After you passed out I managed to find the right formula Crane used on you- he had tried using you as a test subject for his new stuff, so kept accurate records on what he sprayed you with. That was the only lucky break we got." Taking a deep breath the Joker tightened his hold once more- Bruce only now realized his arms were immobilized by the hold- and once more looked Bruce in the eye.

"I was able to clear the chemical residue out of you system, but it had already done significant damage." Bruce began to struggle.

No! He wouldn't hear this! He would kill this clown before he could say it!

The Joker just held him securely, he had lost muscle mass while strapped to the table he realized.

"I'm sorry Batsy, but you are permanently brain-damaged. You're going to have to learn to live with your new urges." Bruce struggled more, and then began to laugh.

"I'm you! I'm finally you! You must be so happy!" He gasped out through his loud guffaws.

As he began to sob uncontrollably he leaned into the strong arms of his greatest enemy- and his best friend he now realized.

Who else would have stayed by his side, and not judged him for what he had done?

Only Alfred.

Alfred and Joker, his only friends. But where was his old mentor?

As if reading his mind, the Joker supplied an answer.

"I convinced Alfred to take a vacation, so he's visiting family in England for the next month. I'm to call him everyday with updates on your condition, and once you feel up to it your to talk to him yourself."

"Thank you." Bruce felt exhausted, but he truly was thankful for what the Joker had done and needed the clown to know that.

"No problem Brucey. Know you need to rest some more. I'll check on you again later, okay?" Nodding, Bruce settled back into his bed.

Just before the green haired man left the room Bruce asked a question that had just come to mind.

"I'm going to need therapy now to learn to control myself, won't I?"

"Yes." Joker turned to look back at the vulnerable looking man in the bed. Vulnerable is better than homicidal, right?

"Don't worry about it Batsy. Dr. Joker is here and he isn't going to let you suffer through this alone." Making it out of the room before the laughter started, he leaned against the wood until it stopped.

His poor Batsy was right. He could easily become just like the Joker now. But he didn't know one thing though, and that was that the Joker would never let him. He would never let his Batsy turn into him.

As his sudden laughter died down Bruce curled up under his blankets. He hated how he couldn't control his reactions anymore!

As he fell asleep he thought about the Joker's eyes, how sad they looked. He hated seeing him look so sad. Closing his eyes he drift off.

_Bruce raced down the dark labyrinth of alleyways. He was lost. Lost in his own city._

_A familiar scream pierces the night._

_'No!' is all he can think as he races towards where he knows the woman will be..._


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: I've got warnings for this chapter: mild dub-con, though not really, and thoughts about suicide. If these are triggers for anyone then I'd skip this chapter._

**Disclaimer: Nothing here is mine even though I want it badly!**

Bruce awoke slowly and peacefully, surrounded by a contented haze. He felt warm, safe, well rested- not a single nightmare that he could recall- and he was finally starting to feel like himself again- himself from before all the blood and death.

Deciding to stay abed a while longer- to soak up these amazing feelings of wellness before he had to face reality- he pulled his warm, comfy pillow closer to him causing it to give a yelp and a giggle.

"Stop it Brucey, I like to cuddle but that tickled my bruises!"

Laying stunned for a moment- Why was he using the Joker for a pillow?- he slowly lifted his head to see a set of twinkling green eyes shinning out of a heavily bruised face.

"Morning lover!" As more shock poured over the billionaire the events of the previous day came flooding back to him:

Bruce had lain in bed, feeling sorry for himself, until the Joker had come back to check on him like he had said he would.

The madman had then practically dragged Bruce to the shower and- through some miracle- had left him to wash in peace, only to return and force him downstairs to breakfast- even though it was the middle of the afternoon- a short time later.

Bruce hadn't had any appetite and had merely moved the omelet about his plate until it was finally taken away.

"Starving yourself won't bring them back, you know." The sudden anger he felt was overwhelming and he might have put the fork he was still holding through the Joker's eye- it was eerie just how vividly he could imagine doing so- if the clown had been within arms reach.

But as the green haired man was on the other side of the kitchen Bruce was able to calm himself enough so he didn't do anything he would regret.

Needing to let the man know just how close he had come to being killed, Bruce did what he really didn't want to do: talk about it.

"I was thinking about stabbing you in the eye with my fork a moment ago. So-"

"So you want me to be careful about what I say and do around you so that you don't actually do something similar to that in the future." Stunned by the clown's insight all he could do was nod.

"How..."

"I'm a mad genius Brucey! And besides, you've been acting a bit like me since this whole mess started; that gives me a distinct advantage here!" Spreading his arms wide with a large smile the clown looked like he was proud of this revelation.

Upon seeing Bruce's confused stare his smile instantly dropped.

"Ahhh, don't ya get it Batsy? I've been me for years now, and you've only just started! So all I have to do is think about what I would do in any given situation, and I'll instantly know what you're going to do and I'll be able to stop you before you do it!" Shaking his head, Bruce tried to deny that even though he knew it was true.

"I'm not like you Joker, I don't want to be this way!" With a small nod and a sad smile the clown sat across from the recovering man.

"And you think I did? Hell, I don't even know if I did, so don't bother answering. That there is the only difference between us at the moment: you have a life that you can remember and can draw moral support from. When I crawled out of that vat I had nothing in my head but rage and blood-lust."

Looking into madness filled eyes Bruce thought he might also see a hint of a desprite sadness from a man who didn't know what his place in the world was.

"I can see the rage in you Batsy, and the blood-lust, but I can also see you fighting it because you know it's wrong. All I'm offering now is an understanding shoulder and a hardened jaw." Standing from the table the Joker made to leave the kitchen.

"When you're ready to talk about it, to get it off you chest and make it easier to handle; or when you snap and need a punching bag, just remember that I'm here to help. Okay?" Walking out the door he left a brooding Bat in his wake.

And brooding Bruce was. He could feel the uncontrollable rage- the overwhelming desire to make others hurt as he had been hurt- but he also felt the weight of his life holding it back.

Every good decision he had made, every dark fantasy he had refused to give-in to, every person he had ever met and helped- they were all there in his mind, in his memory, helping him, showing him how to not give-in to that rage.

How had the Joker survived this without a memory?

Oh, that's right, he didn't. He went insane.

Getting to his feet, Bruce went in search of his clown. He had some questions he wanted to ask.

Finding the man watching tv in one of the endless sitting rooms he plopped down next to him and zoned out watching the glowing screen- if asked he wouldn't be able to tell you what had been playing.

An indetermanent time later he finally found the words to broach the subject.

"How do you stop yourself? When you don't even realize what your doing until it's done- or almost done- how do you stop it?" Never taking his eyes off the screen he waited for an answer.

"Personally? I don't usually. I just do what feels right for the moment and then deal with the consequences afterwards." Giving a huffy sigh the madman continued.

"But I do sometimes need to keep people alive long enough to be useful to me, like Quinn for example, so I've worked out a technique to stop myself when I need to." As he paused Bruce finally turned to face him. This is what he needed to know!

"And what is your technique?" He finally gritted out a few moments later when the starkly white man didn't seem about to continue.

"I'm sure you'll be able to learn it in the fullness of time. After all, it's only complete and total self-awareness. The monitoring and adjusting of every behavior for every moment. It took me years to learn all my triggers- and I still surprise myself sometimes!"

"Sounds exhausting." Was all the stunned brunette could muster in reply. He had never thought of the Joker as a self-aware type of person.

"It is, that's why I prefer to work alone. Less stress at needing to keep someone else alive, and I can react in any manner my messed up brain chemistry sees fit to make me. Like that time I played around with that bird of yours- do you remember that?" Nodding Bruce remembered, he remembered all to well.

The blood, the grief, the pain when he realized that Jason was alive again but not the same boy he had raised. As the pain washed over him anew he began to sob bitterly.

Wrapping an arm around his upset Bat, the Joker tried to be comforting- it was hard to do since he had never done it before.

"Oh Brucey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dredge up -!" As a fist connected with his face the Joker felt something akin to relief- it had just been too long without a good battle with his Batsy-kins, and they both needed the stress relief.

The fight was fierce, though short-lived.

The Joker won of course- the vigilante hadn't yet put back any of the muscle he had recently lost- and Bruce lay pinned to the floor in the middle of the wrecked room while the mad clown sat on his chest.

"That was fun, Batsy! Can we do it again!" Bruce couldn't stop the laughter that came over him at that, and when the clown joined in it was even better.

With a sudden impulse- the kind he was startled to realize he was already getting used to having- he grabbed the clown by his long white neck, sat up and slammed their mouths together into a harsh kiss.

Flipping then so that he was the one on top Bruce forced his tongue into the other man's mouth and started to rip the clothes off him- he needed to see and feel more of this infuriatingly beautiful man!

Running his hands over the newly exposed skin he moved his mouth to that graceful neck and bit down- hard!

His only thought at that moment was: Mine!

The sudden cry from the pliant man under him made Bruce pull away and look the clown over, with a start he realized what he had just tried to do.

He had just tried to rape the Joker!

Horrified at what he had just done, the self-disgust filled brunette stood and ran out of the room.

As Bruce ran, the Joker tried to catch his breath.

That! had been unexpected, he thought with a happy chuckle.

Looking down at himself he realized why his Batsy had run off: torn, blood stained clothes, bruises forming everywhere- they were always really bright against his pasty white skin- and a debauched overall appearance.

Yep, he thought, Brucey thinks he tried to rape me.

With a long suffering sigh he pulled himself off the floor and headed after the distraught man.

Bruce had made it to his room before he stopped running.

What was wrong with him?! He kept asking himself.

Being homicidal was bad enough, but a rapist now too? He couldn't do this- he wouldn't!

If he couldn't control his mind and urges then he would put a stop to them permanently!

Heading to the bathroom- there would be several options in there for completing the deed- he was stopped as the Joker tackled him to the bed.

"Oh no you don't! I haven't worked this hard to see you get better just for you to take the easy way out!" Not even bothering to struggle or deny it, Bruce just lay there.

"How did you know?" He managed to ask.

"What? Do you think I never thought about it once I learned how abnormal I am? No, being suicidal is pointless, and I'm just going to have to make you learn to live with yourself."

"But I hurt you, if you hadn't cried out... Joker, I nearly raped you!" Saying the words was worse than simply thinking them!

As his Bat struggled with himself and his emotions the Joker leaned in against his ear.

"Batsy my love, you can't rape the willing." Feeling the large man under him go completely still he pulled back slightly.

Pressing his lips gently against the still stunned billionaires', the Joker smiled as his kiss was returned with a passion.


End file.
